


The Trouble With Charlie Weasley

by TanzaniteWrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hermione's Nook's Naked Weasley Fest 2020, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Lots of naked Charlie, Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24961261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanzaniteWrites/pseuds/TanzaniteWrites
Summary: Hermione can't help looking twice at Charlie Weasley when she meets him for the first time.But somehow every time she sees him, she gets quite an eyeful...
Relationships: Charmione - Relationship, Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 32
Kudos: 235
Collections: Hermione's Nook Naked Weasley Fest!





	1. More Than She Bargained For

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic!  
> It's unbeta'd, but I consider myself a bit of a grammar snob so hopefully it's at least readable :)  
> Thanks to Hermione's Nook for posting this challenge and inspiring me to get writing!
> 
> Hermione is nearly 15 at the start of this, though it's post-third-year, so really she's more like nearly 16 (which is the age of consent in the UK).  
> Charlie is 21 at the start of this.  
> My husband and I have a bigger age gap than this so this doesn't bother me at all, sorry if you don't like it!
> 
> Currently no smut planned/expected, just some kissing and light 'petting'.

Saturday, 16th August, 1994

Hermione screamed and covered her eyes, backing out of the bathroom as fast as she could. 

"Charlie!" she yelped, turning away from the door and burying her face in her hands to hide the scarlet blush. 

She heard the flush and the rush of water into the sink, and then footsteps as the offending Weasley exited Hermione's ensuite bathroom. 

"Sorry Hermione," he said, his tone a little sheepish. "Fred was in the other bathroom and I didn't think you'd mind…" 

Hermione shook her head, still not looking at him. "It's… fine," she muttered into her hands. "I guess I should have knocked. I'll… see you downstairs." 

She hurried into the bathroom herself, shutting the door behind her, and locking it with her wand - something Charlie evidently hadn't thought to do. 

All the Weasleys had come over to Hermione's parents house for a BBQ. Hermione would be going back with them to the Burrow tonight and then on to the Quidditch World Cup in a couple of days time, and Mr and Mrs Granger had extended the invitation so they could meet some of Hermione's Wizarding friends. 

Arthur had been utterly delighted with the prospect of an afternoon in a muggle home, and as Bill and Charlie were in the country for the Quidditch, all nine Weasleys - and Harry, who was already staying with them - had descended upon Number 47, The Maltings. 

Dan Granger was in charge of grilling the meat, Emma Granger was in charge of all the other food, Molly had brought enough dessert to feed half of Hogwarts, and there was general joyful mayhem.

Dan had pulled a set of rounders posts and a couple of bats and balls out of the shed, and got a game going.

Despite a lot of confusion about the rules, and some definite cheating with summoning charms, everyone was having fun, and the August sun meant most of the boys were soon shirtless. 

Hermione couldn't deny that she had taken a few sidelong looks at Ron's elder brothers - she'd not met Bill and Charlie before, and their physically demanding jobs and prowess on the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts had left them with impressive physique. 

She had not, however, been prepared for the sight of an almost entirely naked Charlie Weasley, as he bent down to pull up his pants in her private bathroom. 

With an effort, she shoved the image to the back of her mind, and went back down to join the party. 

"Hermione! Your turn to bat!" 

****************

18th August 1994

“Troy! Mullet! Muran!” squeaked the shamrock rosette, sounding exhausted.  
Charlie shook his head at the cheap charm-work as he tugged his shirt over his head, firing a quick ‘scourgify’ at it before hanging it on top of the ailing Ireland rosette.

The rest of his clothes quickly followed, and then he stepped into the shower to get the stickiness off his skin.

Scourgify was very effective on clothes and the like, but on skin it felt like a rough scrubbing brush, so he preferred to wash the muggle way.

Fred and George, in high spirits after betting on the exact result of the match - Ireland to win, but Krum to get the snitch - had dosed everyone’s butterbeer with their new roulette potion, and of course Charlie’s had been the one to explode all over him.

He conjured some shower gel - a muggle preference of his father’s, but so much better smelling than bar soap - and quickly lathered up, eager to get back to the celebrations.

He could hear fireworks going off, and laughter and shouting - and was that someone screaming?  
Suddenly there seemed to be a lot of screaming.

“Charlie! Come quick! Death Eaters!” a high voice - Ginny? He wasn’t sure over the sudden pandemonium - yelled out to him.

Death Eaters? Merlin’s saggy left… he took a deep breath and cast the water charm they used on the reserve for putting out dragon fires, dousing himself and washing off the rest of the soap before bursting out of the shower, grabbing blindly for a towel.

“Charlie!” the voice called again, and this time there were others calling too.

“Here! Coming!” he yelled back, rubbing at his hair with the towel while casting a drying charm with his other hand.

Someone came barrelling round the corner, crashing right into him.

“Oh! Sorry! Ah!” 

Charlie belatedly recognised the voice as Hermione Granger… now seeing him naked for the second time that weekend.

Her face flushed scarlet, and he felt his own skin flaming too as he hastily clutched the towel to his privates.

Hermione turned to face the wall, her voice shaking as she repeated, “Death Eaters - attacking muggles - things on fire - they sent me, Harry and Ron to get you so we can all get somewhere safe…”

“Right, come on,” Charlie panted, as he fastened his trousers again and grabbed his shirt. The Ireland rosette fell to the ground, forgotten.

“Where are the others?”

******************************

28th August 1994

“Come along then! Quickly!” Mrs Weasley bustled along Diagon Alley, shopping list in hand.

It was a very long list, as only she, Hermione and Ginny were doing the shopping for everyone this year. Charlie had come too, as he had some errands to run, but he had disappeared as soon as they got to the Leaky.

Mrs Weasley had kept dropping large hints that they should have a ‘girls day’, and that there was something happening at Hogwarts this year that they might need something special for.

Neither Hermione nor Ginny had any idea what she was talking about, but they traipsed along in her wake as she carved a path down the busy street to Madam Malkins.

“Now, Hermione dear, I expect you’ll want to look in here,” she said pointedly, handing Hermione her Hogwarts letter.

“Oh, I have my robes from last year…” Hermione protested, but Mrs Weasley smiled mysteriously. “Just check the list again, dear… Ginny, come along, we need to pop into the second-hand robes shop.”

She dragged Ginny away, as Hermione frowned at her letter, unfolding it and scanning the list of supplies again. She almost didn’t notice the final entry, tucked away on the second sheet of parchment.

“Dress robes?” she said, out loud. “Whatever for?”

She stepped into Madam Malkins, wondering what Wizarding formalwear looked like.

Half an hour later, Hermione hung an armful of bright colours and silky fabrics up in the changing room, and began to try them on. It had been quite a while since she’d been on a shopping trip, and years and years since she’d had a pretty formal dress, so she took her time, admiring herself in the mirror in each gown.

She finally decided on a floaty pink number with lots of layers to the skirt, and stepped out into the main shop to find the seamstress.

She found her in the front of the store, helping a wizard remove a newly-pinned shirt without stabbing himself.

“I won’t be a moment, dear!” Madam Malkin called to her, as she carefully lay the shirt down on a table, and began a complicated little wand movement, causing a needle to thread itself and begin stitching.

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked up, her brown eyes meeting the periwinkle blue of the now-shirtless wizard on the fitting stool. “Charlie!” she exclaimed, suddenly embarrassed by how familiar his muscular, freckled torso was becoming to her.

Charlie’s eyes swept down the length of her body and back again, and he whistled appreciatively.

“Wow. Sexy,” he said, without thinking.

There was a sharp cough from Madam Malkin, and he blushed slightly.

“I mean - they suit you. Dress robes for school this year?” he asked, trying to cover his careless comment, but was interrupted by Madam Malkin returning with his finished items.

“I’ll see you back at the Burrow,” he called as she hustled him out of the shop, tutting about inappropriate comments to young ladies.

“Now dear, hop up on the stool and let’s see what we can do,” she said kindly to Hermione. “Did you want to stick with the pink, or change the colour?”

Hermione had been toying with making the robes a nice lilac, but she heard herself say, “I was thinking periwinkle blue?”

********************

19th September 1994

Hermione’s 15th birthday was a Monday, and she spent the morning doing the arithmetic equations to determine whether she was actually 16 rather than 15 because of all the time travelling she had done the previous year - she came to the conclusion that she probably was - and then spend the afternoon being put under the Imperius curse by the rather terrifying Professor “Mad-Eye” Moody.

She had received several owls at breakfast, had saved everything to open in the Common Room that evening. Harry and Ron had procured a cake, which they swore up and down had not been made by a house elf, and had bought her some more wool to help with her SPEW knitting projects.

Mrs Weasley had sent fudge, and her parents had given her several books before term started as they weren’t very confident with the owl post, but had managed to send a card. Ginny had given her a book on hair charms, and Lavender had got her a large tub of Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion.

She also received a card from Percy, and surprisingly, one from Charlie. Unsurprisingly, it had a moving picture of a dragon on the front, with flaming letters spelling out ‘Happy Birthday!’.

There was just a short note inside.

Dear Hermione,  
Happy Birthday!  
Hope to see you all sooner than you might think, and maybe keep my clothes on this time!  
Love, Charlie.

Hermione felt herself blushing as she read it, and quickly tucked the card inside the book from Ginny, her mind running unbidden over the three occasions so far when she had seen more of Charlie Weasley than she had bargained for.


	2. On Fire For You

24th November 1994

Hermione held her breath as the enraged Hungarian Horntail stampeded around the arena, tail whipping and flames streaming every which way as the dragon roared in anger at Harry, swooping around her head on his Firebolt.

Harry dived for the nest, did a barrel roll under the lashing tail, and snatched the golden egg as if it were no more than a giant snitch.

He soared back into the air, dodging around, narrowly escaping being roasted alive as he leaned forward on his broom, making a dash for the exit..

The crowd went wild, as the dragon keepers poured into the arena, trying to soothe the angered dragon.

Hermione spotted a flash of red among them, and realised Charlie was part of the Horntail’s handling team. She smiled at the sight of his dragonhide gear - she’d always liked a man in uniform.

She didn’t have long to daydream though. The Horntail’s panic was causing her to lash out at the handlers, and even their combined stunners were struggling to bring her down.

Her head whipped round at them, fire erupting, and Hermione heard herself scream.

“Charlie! Look out!”

His head snapped out, distracted for a split second, and the fire caught him full in the middle, the sheer force sending him sprawling back, clothes alight.

The sight of one of their own downed was enough to put the extra force into the handlers’ collective magic, and the dragon collapsed under their combined stunners as Madam Pomfrey dashed into the arena, conjuring a stretcher.

One of the dragon keepers sent a jet of water at Charlie, dousing the flames, but most of the stitching had burned away, and the panels of hide fell from his body, leaving him in only charred underpants.

Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears at the sight of the livid red burns on his freckled skin, before Madam Pomfrey had conjured a privacy screen, and he was gone.

******************

30th November 1994

The dragons and their keepers had all returned to Romania the day after the First Task, except for Charlie, who would be staying in the hospital wing until he was fully healed.

Ron, Ginny, Fred and George had been visiting him regularly, but Hermione, who felt very guilty about Charlie’s burns, had made excuses to stay away.

A week after the tournament, though, she had to escort Neville up to the hospital wing after yet another cauldron meltdown in Potions class had left him with nasty burns on his arms.

Madam Pomfrey had told Neville to go to ‘the usual bed’, which made Neville blush and Hermione feel immensely sorry for the accident prone boy for the regularity of his hospital trips, and then gone to fetch bandages.

“Could you get the burn paste from the table next to Charlie Weasley’s bed please, Miss Granger?” asked the Mediwitch, as she bustled past.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but then shut it again and nodded.

She walked over to Charlie’s bed, and slipped behind the privacy screen, which was slightly ajar.

“Wait! I’m not -” came Charlie’s voice, but it was too late.

“Sorry!” wailed Hermione, hands coming up to cover her eyes as she walked in on an entirely naked Charlie Weasley, inspecting his burns in a full-length mirror.

He was very good looking, thought Hermione, as she tried very hard to forget the image which had just seared itself into her eyeballs.

“B-Burn paste,” she stammered from behind her hands. “Please. Sorry.”

Charlie laughed, pulling the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around himself. “It’s ok, I’m decent.”

She opened her eyes again and took the tub of paste he was holding out to her.

The scars wrapped around the left side of his torso, still vividly bright against his pale freckled skin, but looked to be healing nicely. They disappeared below the sheet now draped around his hips, and Hermione tried hard not to remember what else lay beneath that sheet.

“Uh, thanks. I, um, sorry,” she said, looking down.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before”, said Charlie with a wink, which made her blush furiously.

“How are you?” she asked awkwardly. “I’m sorry - about the burns. It’s my fault you got distracted,” she confessed.

Charlie laughed. “Nah, she would have got me anyway. I’m healing just fine, though Madam Pomfrey wants to keep me a couple more weeks. Hopefully I’ll get to stay for Christmas.”

**********************

10th December 1994

There was no Quidditch at Hogwarts that year, thanks to the Triwizard Tournament, but as the castle was playing host to Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker, and Charlie Weasley, who everyone said could have played Seeker for England, a friendly game was inevitable.

By two weeks after the First Task, Charlie was well on the mend, and went personally to the Durmstrang Ship to suggest the game.

Krum, who said he was also missing Quidditch, was excited for the idea, so that Saturday Charlie and a team of Gryffindors, and Krum and a mixed team from Durmstrang, Beauxbaton, and Slytherin headed to the pitch.

Although it wasn’t an official game, nearly everyone from all three schools was there to watch, and Lee Jordan was commentating. Colin Creevey was everywhere with his camera, taking pictures of the players.

Hermione wasn’t usually excited by Quidditch, but both Charlie and Krum had personally asked her to attend, which left her feeling rather flustered, and not sure who to cheer for.

Krum had begun hanging around her in the library, and had asked her to come when he had asked her to the Yule Ball the day before. Charlie had wrapped a Gryffindor scarf around her neck as she sat in the common room, and told her with a wink that he expected to hear her cheering, as he knew from the First Task that her voice could carry that far.

Hermione had blushed, and now here she was in the stands, watching her date face off against her crush.

According to Harry, Ron and Ginny, who were absolutely beside themselves with excitement, the match was a masterclass in Seeking technique.

Krum again pulled the Wronski Feint he had used in the World Cup, but Charlie wasn’t fooled, and in the end the match was won 470-310, with Krum just grabbing the snitch ahead of Charlie to secure his team the victory.

After the match, Ron and Harry dragged her down to the changing rooms to do a play-by-play recount of every move with the rest of the Weasleys.

They were nearly there, when the Gryffindor changing room burst open, and Fred and George fled out, chased by a completely naked Charlie.

Hermione was too confused to even cover her eyes as she watched Charlie chase the twins across the lawns.

******************

12th December 1994

It was Charlie’s 22nd birthday the following Monday, and after lessons he invited them all up to the Room of Requirement for a party.

He had got hold of what looked like most of the Honeydukes stock, as well as hot butterbeer all round.

They were sat round in a circle on beanbags, warm and full and laughing and Fred and George’s jokes, when Charlie pulled out a bottle of VeritaseRum, a new brand of magical rum with a touch of truth serum, marketed specially for Truth or Dare games.

By the end of the night, the twins had admitted that they had been so certain of Charlie’s Seeking prowess that they had jinxed the snitch, so the losing Seeker’s clothes would all disappear for an hour after the match.

Hermione had admitted that the only failing grade she had ever got was in flying lessons in first year. She also wound up confessing that she was actually 16 rather than 15, because of all the messing with time she had done last year, and that she was pretty sure the Trace would break on her next year rather than two years time because of it.

Charlie had stripped entirely but for his boxers and his socks, in answer to a truth about whether or not he had a tattoo - which Hermione already knew he didn’t. His burns were almost fully healed now, though they still seemed a little sore from the way he moved.

Fred had dared everyone to eat one of the new Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products, stripy strips, which made one item of clothing disappear temporarily. He had eaten one to show them, and one of his socks had vanished, which had emboldened them all.

Hermione wound up without her shirt, though she still had her very sensible bra, which she was thankful for. Even so, she caught Charlie looking at her a few times.

Ginny had exclaimed ‘Oh!’ as she ate hers, but nothing seemed to disappear, and everyone fell about laughing as they realised she must have lost her knickers.

George and Harry both lost their shirts, and Ron’s trousers disappeared, leaving him in his boxers.

Charlie refused to take one, being already nearly naked, and instead told them a Truth that he was applying to work at the new Hebridean Dragon Sanctuary in Scotland, so he would be nearer home.

Harry kissed Ginny on a dare, which made Ginny go very pink and quiet, and when Charlie laughed at her, she had dared him to kiss Hermione.

Charlie stood up, walked over, and reached down to pull Hermuone to her feet, holding her flush against him.

“May I kiss you, Miss Granger?” he asked dramatically, but his periwinkle eyes were serious and a little shy as they met hers.

Hermione licked her lips unconsciously, and nodded wordlessly.

Charlie dipped her back theatrically, then leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the lips, to applause from the twins and a wolf whistle from Harry.

He stood her back up, and winked at her. She was very aware of the sensation of skin on skin as he held her against his bare chest, and blushed as she realised that Charlie, usually so unflappable, was blushing too.

His pink face clashed horribly with the orange of his hair, and Hermione giggled slightly.

“You look like you’re on fire,” she told him.

He grinned at her, teasingly. “On fire for you, Miss Granger.”


	3. Sink or Swim

17th December 1994

“Expecto Patronum!” Charlie whispered, grinning as his wyvern patronus shimmered into view, breathing silvery fire.

“Oportet ut dicam Hermione”, he added, pointing his wand at the patronus. It stood to attention, waiting for his message. “Hi Hermione! I have a surprise for you. Meet me by the broomshed in 15 minutes, dress warmly.”

The wyvern nodded to him, then swooped out of the window of Charlie’s guest suite, and headed for Gryffindor Tower.

Madam Pomfrey had declared him fighting fit once more two days before, but as it was so close to Christmas, Dumbledore had given him permission to stay as a chaperone for the Yule Ball, and then to spend the holidays with his siblings, who were all staying at Hogwarts this year.

The last day of term had been yesterday, and today he wanted to teach Hermione to fly.

He had been itching to get her on a broomstick after her admission at his birthday party that she hadn’t flown since failing the class in first year.

Grabbing his trusty Cleansweep 7, and a nice warm jumper, Charlie headed towards the broomshed to find a nice, steady broom for Hermione to learn on.

He had just settled on a Comet 260 when Hermione entered the broomshed, looking wary. “Charlie? Why did you want to meet - oh no. No no no, I’m not flying,” she protested, realising his plan.

“Aww, come on Hermione!” Charlie cajoled. “Merlin knows you can’t learn to fly in a big class like that, but one-on-one with a good teacher, I bet you can do it! You’re so good at every other class, don’t you want a perfect set?” he added, sneakily.

Hermione looked torn. “It really just doesn’t feel safe,” she protested.

“Don’t worry love, I’ll catch you,” Charlie laughed.

Hermione wasn’t sure how, but fifteen minutes later, she was in the air, aboard the Comet 260 Charlie had picked out for her.

She still didn’t feel at all safe, but staying fairly near the ground she was starting to get the hang of steering and how to position her body.

Charlie really was an excellent teacher, too.

Once she had got the hang of the basic moves, he had her do a wobbly lap of the quidditch pitch. “And she’s off! It’s Granger coming round the pitch, she’s passed the Gryffindor stand and off towards Ravenclaw, gaining speed, bit of a wobble there but she’s not scared! Passing the Hufflepuff stands and it’s just the Slytherin to go! A real burst of speed there ladies and gentlemen as she zips past the goal hoops and back along the other side of the pitch! And it’s Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and back to the Gryffindor stands in record time, that’s Hermione Granger with a full lap of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch!”

Hermione was blushing and laughing as she completed the lap, a mix of genuinely proud and annoyed at his teasing.

They flew side by side back to the broomshed, and Hermione glanced over at Charlie. She thought for a second that something seemed different - and then she realised he was fully clothed in a thick jumper and corduroy trousers, warding off the Highland chill.

“See you’ve managed to keep your clothes on around me for once,” she grinned as she landed carefully, her legs wobbly after so long airborne.

Charlie leapt effortlessly to the ground from his own broom. “Looks like I have. Guess you just have that effect on me,” he grinned, reaching for the hem of his jumper. “Though now you mention it, I am feeling a bit warm…”

Hermione laughed and swatted his hand away. “Keep it on, silly, you’ll catch your death. I’m sure I’ve seen enough of you to last a lifetime already.”

**********************

18th December 1994

Despite her protestations, Hermione had found her mind full of images of Charlie in all states of dress as she headed back up to Gryffindor tower.

She had enjoyed spending the day with him, and despite herself, had rather enjoyed flying, by the end. There was something freeing about the wind in her hair, though the knowledge that she could do a cushioning charm now was definitely helping.

The next morning the weather was crisp and cold again, and Harry and Ron were heading out to the pitch. They asked her to join them, as usual, fully expecting her routine ‘no thanks’, and Ron actually tripped over his broom when she said yes instead.

She got the Comet out of the broomshed again, hastily turning down Harry’s offer of a go on his Firebolt, and kicked off shakily.

On the spur of the moment, she decided to fly up to the window of Charlie’s room and surprise him.

Counting along the windows, she figured out which one was his, and aimed the broom upwards.

Fortunately, her aim was good, and she shot straight towards the window.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t practiced braking while in the air much.

With a scream, she shot straight through the window, which shattered dramatically around her, and slid sideways off her broom, right into the arms of an entirely naked and soaking wet Charlie Weasley.  
“Aah! Cold! Hermione! What?” Charlie yelped.

“Charlie! Sorry!” Hermione gasped, trying not to sob from the shock.

Charlie grabbed his wand and made the glass fly back into the window, stopping the icy wind, then hastily put Hermione down, and grabbed a pair of pants.

“What are you doing in here? Did you fly in? Of course you did, this is the fifth floor. Why - the window?” he stammered.

“I’m sorry!” Hermione chanted over and over. “I just wanted to show you I was practicing, I thought I’d tap on the glass, but I didn’t know how to brake in the air and then…”

“Oh Hermione,” Charlie laughed, and gave the shaking girl a hug. Hermione gasped a little as his wet hair dripped on her, then relaxed into his warm grip.

His biceps looked even better up close.

**************

25th December 1994

Charlie looked down at his dress robes. He had got them last minute from Gladrags Wizardwear in Hogsmeade, and they weren't the flashiest, but he thought he looked pretty smart. 

Better than Ron would, anyway, in the sad maroon velvet their Mum had found him.  
Charlie had charmed them black and taken the moth-eaten lace off the cuffs for him, but no amount of freshening charms and scourgifys had been able to take away their eldlerly appearance. 

Charlie had found himself toying with the idea of asking Hermione to the ball, but Professor McGonagall had made it quite clear to him that he would be there as a chaperone and therefore was not supposed to bring a date.  
Also, Hermione had apparently been asked by someone else, though she wouldn't tell anyone who it was. 

Taking a last glance in the mirror, Charlie nodded at himself, and headed out into the hall, and up the single flight of stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room. 

Fred and George were waiting by the portrait hole for their dates to emerge. The moment they saw him, they both began howling with laughter. 

Charlie looked down at himself, but everything seemed fine. 

"What are you two giggling at?" 

They didn't answer, but continued in gales of laughter. The Fat Lady was looking rather scandalised, and seemed about to say something, but at that moment, the portrait swung open, and Hermione stepped out. 

"What on earth is so funny?" she asked the twins. 

They just pointed at Charlie, who stepped out from behind the open portrait. 

"Hello, Hermione," he began. 

"Charlie! Where are your clothes?!" Hermione squeaked. 

Charlie looked down at himself - fully dressed - and then at the twins. 

"Frederick Gideon and George Fabian Weasley," he roared in a voice not dissimilar to one of Mrs Wesley's howlers. 

The twins turned to run, but Charlie whipped out his wand, and cast the leglocker on them.

They fell to the ground. 

In the end, Hermione had to bully the counter-jinx out of the giggling pair, because the sight of Charlie in his dragon-themed boxer shorts sent them into fresh paroxysms with every glance. 

"Sartorius Revelio!" she declared, swishing her wand. 

Charlie's dress robes reappeared, the dragon boxers replaced by smart black robes. 

Hermione tried not to think about how nicely they had cupped his bum. 

***************

26th December 1994

Boxing Day dawned cold and bright, the weak winter sun gleaming off fresh snow from the night before. 

Everyone wore their new Weasley jumpers as they hung out in the common room, until Ginny pulled hers off to reveal a cute blue tankini top. 

"Last one in the lake's a Cornish Pixie!" she yelled. 

Ron and George groaned, while Fred whooped, and Charlie laughed, but all four ripped off their jumpers and sprinted off towards the lake. 

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, then followed at a more sedate pace, still fully dressed. 

Hermione bent to pick up a shirt as they left the portrait hole, then collected a shoe and another shirt as they descended the stairs. 

By the time they reached the main doors of the castle, she was holding five full outfits. 

They left the castle, following the trail of bare footprints which led across the snowy lawn to the lake. 

"I hope they cast warming charms…" said Hermione, worriedly. 

Harry laughed. "They do this every year at the Burrow, Ron told me about it. They'll be fine."

As they reached the lakeshore, Hermione spotted another piece of clothing on the ground. She bent to pick it up, then realised what she was holding was patterned with… Dragons. 

Charlie… Was skinny dipping. 

"HERMIONE!" bellowed the owner of the dragon pants, from the water. "COME ON IN! WATER'S LOVELY WITH A WARMING CHARM!" 

Hermione shook her head in despair at the Weasley family in general, but Harry was already tugging off his socks, so she pulled out her wand, and transfigured her sensible underwear into a bikini before removing her robes. 

The water was utterly frigid, of course, but Charlie showed her how to charm herself to warm her surroundings to a balmy 30 degrees Celsius, which made it really rather pleasant, if possibly cheating for a Boxing Day Swim. 

They splashed and ducked each other, and dove for knuts off the bottom until a Merman came up to yell at them for dropping a knut on his head. 

Charlie apologised as best he could underwater, then surfaced, rather pink from holding his breath. 

"Why did you have to talk to him underwater?" Hermione asked, curiously. "I thought merfolk could breathe on land, for a while?" 

Charlie nodded. "They can, but Mermish sounds like the most unearthly screeching above the surface. Below the water, it's like English but singing." 

He suddenly looked dumbstruck. 

"Hey - Harry! Your Egg!" 

The Triwizard Egg was hastily summoned, and sure enough, the horrific caterwauling within became a haunting melody beneath the water. 

They all immediately began throwing out ideas. 

It seemed pretty clear that something - or someone - would be taken, and Harry would have an hour to get them from the bottom of the Black Lake. 

There were various options for breathing underwater - the Bubblehead charm was a good one, though if it burst, you couldn't speak to cast another one, which was a problem. 

Transfiguration was another, though Human transfiguration was very tricky, and only learned in 7th year. 

Charlie was sure there was some kind of water plant that made you part fish, though he couldn't remember the name. 

Harry was still stuck on the idea of Human transfiguration, though. 

"Hey, what if I became an Animagus?!" he asked, excitedly. "How cool would that be?!" 

Hermione began to explain how unlikely it was that he would manage the transformation in so little time, and that he wasn't likely to be an animal that breathed underwater, but all the Weasleys had jumped on the idea. 

"We have some of the meditation potion that shows you your Animagus forms!" one of the twins volunteered. 

"We could all do it! Find out what our form would be, and start practicing!" Ginny chipped in. 

"Like the Marauders 2.0!" agreed the other twin, with a mixture of excitement and reverence in his voice. 

Back in the Room of Requirement, they all gripped their potion vials - a concerning shade of turquoise - and took a deep breath.

“Here’s to finding out if our spirit animals sink or swim!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN -
> 
> The Boxing Day Swim is based on a British tradition where people dress up and jump in the sea on Boxing Day, usually for charity. It just seemed like something the Weasleys would do, somehow.


	4. His Birthday Suit

14th January 1995

Charlie jumped as a loud bang on the window heralded the arrival of a very grumpy-looking owl.

He wasn’t surprised it was grumpy - owls didn’t like flying to the dragon sanctuaries, as dragons liked to roast owls for snacks.

He hastily opened the window and let the disgruntled bird in, giving it a dried frog and a few owl treats before taking the official looking envelope from its leg.

The wax seal had the crest of the Outer Hebrides Dragon and Wyvern Sanctuary on it, and Charlie crossed his fingers as he prised it open.

Dear Mr Weasley

Thank you for your inquiry about the Junior Dragon Wrangler position here at the OHDWS. We would like to invite you for a week-long visit to the sanctuary, so we can see if you would be a good fit for us.  
Please advise by return owl when you will be arriving - tomorrow would be ideal, if possible.

Yours Sincerely,

Galton Scamander

Charlie let out a loud whoop, hastily penned his reply, and went to beg a week’s leave from his long-suffering supervisor.

As it turned out, the OHWDS had also contacted the Romanian Dragon Reserve directly, as they had a German dragonologist who wanted to transfer to the RDR, and basically wanted to swap her with Charlie for the week, and then if all went well, permanently, so three hours later, Charlie found himself spinning wildly across Europe via international Portkey.

He landed at Hogsmeade Station, the main Scottish destination for international Portkeys, and realised immediately that it must be a Hogsmeade Weekend for the students.

Checking quickly that his shrunken belongings were safely in his pocket, he decided to surprise his family.

Watching from an alley, he saw Harry, Ron and Hermione heading into Zonkos, the prank shop, and grinned. He had spent a lot of time and pocketmoney there himself while he was at Hogwarts.

He sneaked into the shop behind a group of third-years, and hid behind a shelf, then leapt out just as the trio rounded the corner.

Hermione shrieked, and the package of potions she was carrying flew out of her hands, drenching Charlie in purple slime.

“Charlie?! You’re supposed to be in Romania!”

“I got a transfer to the Scottish sanctuary in the Hebrides!” Charlie grinned, aiming a ‘scourgify’ at his robes.

“Oh - no!” Hermione squeaked, but it was too late.

The cleaning spell, combined with the potion, made his robes disintegrate, leaving him once again in just his dragon-patterned boxers.

*****************

24th February 1995

Charlie had fitted right in at the OHDWS, and by the time the Second Task came in February, he had been permanently transferred there, which meant he was close enough to take the day off to watch the task.

Harry’s animagus form, to the surprise of no-one, was a stag like his patronus, and he hadn’t made any headway in transforming in any case, but Neville Longbottom had saved the day by identifying the water plant Charlie had thought of as Gillyweed.

Ron and Hermione were both under the lake as ‘things the champions would sorely miss’, and Harry was under the lake rescuing Ron, so Charlie got a front-row seat, with Ginny and the twins.

Dumbledore had cast a pensieve-type charm across the lake, so they could watch the champions’ progress as if on a screen, projected on the lake’s surface.

They all yelled at Harry for being too noble as he reached the hostages first, but then waited to make sure they would be ok.

When a shark-headed Krum burst out of the lake with a sodden Hermione, Charlie jumped up without thinking to help pull her out of the water as Krum un-transfigured himself again.

He cast drying and warming charms on her, but she was still shivering, so he pulled off his Weasley jumper, and helped her put it on. It was adorably large on her.

“Thank you, but aren’t you cold now?” she murmured, her teeth chattering, barely even realising she was staring right at his beautifully muscled chest.

“I’ll be just fine, love,” he replied, but before he could say any more, Krum put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders, rather posessively, and marched her off down the dock.

******************

25th March 1995

“But why does he want to meet in the Forbidden Forest?” Hermione asked, for the hundredth time, as she, Harry, Ron and Ginny made their way through the trees.

“Why don’t you ask him?” came a voice from above them.

They stopped and looked up. Charlie was sitting astride a large branch, at least 20 feet up. As they watched, he stood up, then slowly began to morph, until a few moments later there was a fully-grown wyvern standing before them.

With a lazy flap of his wings, the wyvern leapt from the branch, and coasted to the ground, landing in the clearing just ahead of them, then slowly morphing back into Charlie.

Only this time, his clothes had not reappeared with him.

“Morgana’s tits!” exclaimed Charlie. “Not again!”

Ron and Harry had burst out laughing; Ginny rolled her eyes, while Hermione blushed.

“Here!” she squeaked, grabbing the jumper he had lent her after the Second Task from her bag, and shoving it towards him.

Charlie grabbed the jumper and pulled it on, magically lengthening it so it covered him properly.  
“Have you been carrying this around all that time?” he asked Hermione curiously.

Hermione’s blush became an even darker red.

“She has,” said Ginny, in a teasing tone. “She sniffs it when she thinks no-one’s looking,” she added, salaciously.

“Ginny!” yelped Hermione.

Charlie just laughed, and winked at Hermione, which did nothing to help her blush subside.

Fortunately, Harry was far more interested in Charlie’s animagus transformation.

“How did you get it so quickly?” he asked, enviously.

“There’s this old scottish Dragon Keeper at the Hebrides Sanctuary,” Charlie explained. “Grumpy old git, but he’s a Dragonnet animagus. Really useful to have around in a dragon sanctuary. When I told him the potion showed me a wyvern, he agreed to teach me. He’s had me meditating 4 hours a day at least, and I’ve had that awful mandrake leaf in my mouth for a month. There was a storm last night, so I was finally able to take the potion and transform!”

*********************

16th April 1995

On Easter Sunday, Charlie was in the Great Hall when they all came down for breakfast, with a package of Easter eggs for all of them from Mrs Weasley.

He handed the dragon-egg sized chocolates out to everyone, only stopping when he got to a tiny one the size of a chicken egg.

“Hermione,” he read from the label, looking over at her. 

Hermione’s face fell. She tried to take the tiny egg graciously, but found a few tears leaking down her cheeks.

“Don’t tell me Mum’s been reading the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, and believes all those lies about Hermione?!” growled Ron.

Charlie frowned. “I bet she has,” he agreed, angrily. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said suddenly, turning and striding from the room.

An hour later, he returned with an absolutely enormous chocolate egg, and a letter from Mrs Weasley, apologising profusely for believing ‘that awful Skeeter woman’.

He gave them to Hermione, then pulled her in for a big hug as she burst into tears.

“It’s ok - happy tears,” she explained. “Thank you, Charlie.”

“He took on Mum, for Hermione, and won?” one of the twins muttered to the other. “Wow.”

“One better than that,” Charlie said grimly, overhearing the comment.

He pulled a glass jar with a large pink beetle in it out of his pocket. “This,” he said, holding the jar up to the light, “is Rita Skeeter. Illegal animagus. I had her explain her lies to Mum, and made a deal with her - if she leaves Hermione alone, she won’t get reported as an animagus.” He glared at the bug. “Or accidentally stepped on,” he added, sotto voce.

“Now, I’m here all day, do you need any help with spells for the Third Task, Harry?” he asked brightly into the stunned silence in the room.

To Hermione’s absolute lack of shock, during their spell practice in the Room of Requirement, someone managed to hit Charlie with a spell that vanished all of his clothes, leaving him once again in his Birthday Suit.


	5. Take It Off - Quick!

24th June 1995

Charlie took a deep breath, and pushed his consciousness into his wyvern form, then shuffled awkwardly back into the large cage. It was a bit small for him really, but fortunately he didn’t have long to wait.

The tournament organisers had requested that the OHDWS provide a ‘small dragon, non-fire-breathing’ for use in the third task, and with the help of MacDougall, the Dragonnet animagus, he had managed to get himself shipped to Hogwarts as one of the challenges the Champions would face in the maze.

It was a slightly risky move, he knew, but it was the only way he could be close enough to help Harry if something went wrong.

A team of five wizards from the ministry levitated the cage over the first few hedges of the maze, then lowered it carefully before vanishing the bars.

He could tell from the shadows that it was well past midday, so the task should be starting soon.

Sure enough, a short while later he heard the annoying voice of Ludo Bagman begin his commentator’s chatter, and then moments later, there was someone rounding the corner towards him.

Not Harry though, this one was wearing yellow. Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff, he remembered with an effort. The details of such human things as names were a little fuzzy in his Wyvern brain.

The boy shot a spell at him, and he dodged it instinctively, letting out a bellowing roar. He heard the crowd react in fear at the sound, which pleased him.

He toyed with Cedric for a while, not letting him pass, until a niggling sense of unfriendly magic which had been bothering him for a while got too strong to ignore.

Turning away from the boy, he leapt up and over the hedge to the next passage of the maze, then the next and the next, following the sense of magic until he was nearly at the centre of the maze. He could see Harry, running towards the middle, and there was the Triwizard cup at the centre of an open area, and it was… glowing blue?

With a growl, he leapt towards it, intending to knock Harry away from it, but somehow he just got them both whisked away.

“Portkey,” he groaned, as the whirling magic caused him to lose focus, and turn human again.

They landed on the grass of a graveyard, somewhere Charlie had never seen before. The man standing before them he had definitely seen before though. 

“Scabbers,” he spat.

“Kill the spare,” came a high, cold voice.

The man faltered. “Master, it is a Weasley,” he whimpered.

The cold voice laughed cruelly. “Your loyalty is misplaced, Wormtail. Tie them up then, I shall kill him later.”

Charlie was sobbing as he let go of the portkey early, and hit the ground back at Hogwarts, away from the maze and the lights. The sheer agony of the Cruciatus still stabbed through him, cramping his muscles and making his very blood seem to burn as it leaked from the many cuts on his body.

He curled into a ball, closed his eyes, and waited for the pain to pass.

It was not at all as long as he had expected before it subsided, and he opened his eyes a crack to see Hermione kneeling beside him.

“Drink this,” she whispered, holding a pain potion to his lips.

He gulped it gratefully.

“Where did they hurt you?” she asked him, tenderly. He noticed it looked like she had been crying.

“Everywhere,” he admitted weakly. He reached up a shaking hand to wipe some blood off her cheek, before realising it was his, and he was only making it worse.

Hermione laughed weakly. “I’m going to have to take off your clothes to heal you…”

**********************

12th August 1995

“Three - Two - One - Evanesco!”

The quivering nest of Doxies finally disappeared under the force of their combined spells, and Hermione sighed with relief.

“Come on, Scourgify it quick or they’ll come back!” Charlie warned.

They were clearing out an old guest room at Grimmauld Place, as a Mrs Weasley-approved way to burn off their nerves about Harry’s underage magic hearing that day.

“Scourgify Maxima!” Hermione flicked her wand at the infested curtains, grimacing as a shower of doxy droppings was violently expelled from the tatty velvet, covering them both.

“Oh, shit!” Charlie exclaimed, pulling his t-shirt away from his skin.

“Yep,” replied Hermione wryly. “Doxy shit.”

“No, I mean, doxy droppings can cause burns when combined with salt water, and I don’t know about you, but I’m sweating a lot!” Charlie explained, as he yanked off his shirt and began undoing his belt.

Hermione yelped as the sleeve of her blouse began to smoke.

“Take it off - quick!”


	6. I Love You

19th September 1995

Hermione trudged back up to the common room after class that Tuesday. It had been a long day, filled with difficult lessons and dire warnings about their OWL year, and hadn’t felt much like her Sweet Sixteen at all.

She reached the portrait, and muttered ‘Billywigs’ to the Fat Lady.

“He told me to tell you to go to the Room of Requirement,” replied the Fat Lady, not opening.

“Who did?” asked Hermione, in some frustration.

“That handsome redhead with the dragon pants,” she replied.

Hermione didn’t even stop to wonder how the Fat Lady knew about Charlie’s pants as she hurried down the corridor, and little ball of warmth in her belly. Charlie was here, on her birthday!

The door to the Room was already visible, so she took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

Inside, Charlie had made a beautifully cosy little room with a roaring fire in the grate, a deliciously squishy-looking loveseat, and a wonderful picnic spread out across a blanket on the floor.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione.”

Hermione looked up into the deep periwinkle blue eyes of her favourite Weasley as he pulled her into a hug, letting the door swing shut behind them.

She felt goosebumps shiver up her arms as he held her, one hand trailing down her back.

“Is this… all for me?” she asked, in a small voice, into his chest.

“All for my favourite witch,” Charlie agreed, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

Hermione looked up at him, and the next kiss landed on her lips.

She gasped, and he took full advantage, gently but thoroughly plundering her mouth with his tongue as she melted against him.

Later, as he fed her strawberries, and she licked the juice from his fingers, she felt bold enough to pick up her wand, and point it at his shirt.

“Sartoria evanesca,” she whispered, before looking up at him through her lashes.

“You were wearing far too many clothes,” she explained, before he silenced her with his lips on hers.

She felt his fingers find her shirt buttons, and begin undoing them, undressing her the muggle way.

“So are you, love,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers right through her and straight to the knot of warmth below her belly.

She had to admit it was sexier this way.

************

31st December, 1999

Hermione held up a red dress against herself, glaring at the mirror as she tried to decide between this and the green.

Charlie’s note lay on the dresser - “I’ll pick you up at 7:45, wear something nice. Love you, C”

It was 7:40pm and she still wasn’t dressed.

Closing her eyes, she grabbed a random dress off the bed. Green.

“Ok fine,” she said aloud to the room, as she pulled on the green dress, and aimed her wand at her hair.

Adding some heels and a dash of lipstick, she looked at herself critically again, and then at the clock. 7:44. It would have to do.

Right on cue, the Floo flared green, and Charlie stumbled out of it, looking sharp in a navy muggle suit.

“Hello beautiful,” he greeted her, stooping for a kiss. “Ready to go?”

She nodded. “As I’ll ever be. Where are we going?”

He grinned. “It’s a surprise. Come on, we need to apparate.”

They left the house and walked around the corner to the apparition point, where Charlie put his arm tightly around her waist, and spun them into darkness.

They reappeared with a ‘pop’ in a small cosy room, of which the front wall seemed to be made entirely of glass. The London skyline stretched before them, with Tower Bridge right ahead.

“Welcome to level 73 of The Shard,” grinned Charlie.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “I thought 72 was the highest you could go?” she asked.

Charlie laughed. “Magic,” he said simply, with a wink.

Hermione just shook her head, and went to the window, gazing out at the spectacular view. They would have a perfect view of the London New Year fireworks from here, she realised.

“This is incredible, Charlie!” she enthused, turning back to him. “Oh!”

Charlie laughed. Her constant surprised at his nakedness, even now 5 years later, was just one of the things he adored about her.

Although to be fair, she might have been more surprised because he was on one knee.

He held up the ring. “Hermione Jean Granger, will you start the new millennium off as my fiancee?” 

She almost knocked him over with her flying tackle of a hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Behind them, the first of the fireworks erupted into the sky.

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my first ever fanfic!
> 
> My plan was a LOT longer than this, but the rules were for less than 10,000 words, so I had to prune it drastically!  
> If I get enough interest in this, I might come back and flesh it out a bit more, but I hope this doesn't feel too rushed, and you all enjoy it as it stands.  
> and yes I know the Shard didn't exist in 1999 but shhhhh.


End file.
